


Heaven is a place on earth with you

by olly_octopus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Crowley - Freeform, Consent is Sexy, First Time, Fluff, Fuck Or Die, Humour, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Top Aziraphale, i lasted precisely one day before i had to post another, im glad we all agree Crowley is a bottom, look i set out with full intentions to make it serious but I can’t, sorry we tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olly_octopus/pseuds/olly_octopus
Summary: “What’ll you do, angel,” says Gabriel, eyes never leaving Aziraphale’s face as Crowley writhes on the floor beside him. “You either forfeit heaven or you let your little demon friend die. What’s it to be?”“Get fucked, you preppy wanker,” gasps Crowley.***Aziraphale is told that he has to make a choice... a choice between staying in heaven or letting Crowley live. But there’s a catch.





	Heaven is a place on earth with you

**Author's Note:**

> I’m stressed & my head hurts but at least we have porn

It had been dangerous, Aziraphale had known that right from the start.

An angel and a demon? Working together? Becoming gradually closer and closer over centuries until there was no one in the world or otherwise who could quite understand Aziraphale better than Crowley? Preposterous. At least, according to Gabriel, Aziraphale thinks as his grip tightens on the smooth, cool banister that leads to what he should have been. 

Should. What he should have been... He should’ve been more careful. If he’d been careful, they’d still be having fine wines from the 19th century in the back of the bookshop— but Crowley had always loved the danger.

The thrill of danger is always there, Aziraphale supposes. Danger always has a certain thrill until said danger is over and people are bleeding and suddenly there’s quite a few bodies to clean up...

...And oh, is Crowley in danger.

What have they done to him?

When angel Gabriel decides to call in, it usually means you’re in trouble or going to shagged to within an inch of your life by a celestial being— and since Aziraphale is fairly sure it isn’t the latter that only logically leaves one option left.  
“Crowley, oh dear, oh, my sweet silly boy, what have you done this time,” Aziraphale whispers as he finally sets foot at heaven’s metaphorical doorstep, as it were. It’s eerily silent.

“Hello?” He pipes up nervously, eyes darting around for any signs of life.  
“Oh, you arrived at last,” comes another voice, and Aziraphale spins around to face the space where he was just standing… to see Gabriel.  
“How did you…?”  
“What’s it to be, angel,” Gabriel says, not bothering to answer the question. Aziraphale laughs nervously, a little too high pitched.  
“I’m so sorry; I don’t think I understand… did you, um, did you say you had Crowley…? I do recall…”  
Gabriel sighs and rolls his eyes.  
“Oh, yes. I do forget.”

He clicks his fingers, and suddenly next to him there’s a little pile of Crowley, wriggling like a snake trapped in a box. Aziraphale immediately steps forwards to come closer to him, but Gabriel holds up a clean, beautifully manicured hand to halt his movement.  
“Not yet. First, there’s a choice you have to make, isn’t there?” Aziraphale stares at Gabriel in bewilderment and the beginnings of anger.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”  
“Really? I’m sure I left it in the answerphone message.”  
“You didn’t!”

Gabriel frowns, glances at Crowley who is making all kinds of strange sounds and movements on the ground, then fixes his gaze back on Aziraphale.

“I’m terribly sorry, but heaven has made a decision.”  
“You— bastard—!” This is Crowley, having made the first moderately sensible noise since synthesising into the space beside Gabriel.  
“Does he ever stop talking,” deadpans Gabriel, giving Crowley a filthy look.  
“Not really, no, uh, what kind of, um, decision?”  
Gabriel tilts his head. “The kind where we think it rather damages heaven’s reputation to never be out of the lap of one Anthony J Crowley, and we’d like you to either forfeit heaven or forfeit him.”

“Forfeit… forfeit Crowley? What do you—“  
“In an hour, he’ll die,” Gabriel interrupts, ignoring Crowley’s furious hissing. “Unless he can, um…”  
“This— this fucking cumstain… fuck— this twat— he wants you to fucking…. fuck—“ Crowley looks up at Aziraphale, tears glittering in his yellow reptilian eyes. “He wants you… wants you to… fuck…”  
“If you don’t sodomise this… demon… he will die. And if you do, you will no longer be welcome in paradise. You may never return.” 

Gabriel sets his jaw and seems to straighten up almost imperceptibly.

“What’ll you do, angel,” says Gabriel, eyes never leaving Aziraphale’s face as Crowley writhes on the floor beside him. “You either forfeit heaven or you let your little demon friend die. What’s it to be?”  
“Get fucked, you preppy wanker,” gasps Crowley.

Aziraphale feels his stomach drop, and his eyes fall to where Crowley seems to be in some sort of agony, eyelashes sparkling with tears and hands grasping at nothing.  
“You’re evil,” Aziraphale whispers to Gabriel, who curls his lip.  
“Not my decision.”  
“But your punishment.”  
Gabriel says nothing.

There’s a pause, in which Crowley lets out a strangled sob and Gabriel avoids eye contact with anyone. “What do you choose?”

Aziraphale clenches his fists, strides over to Crowley, grabs him by that stupid necktie he loves so much, and pulls him up off the floor.  
“I choose Crowley,” he announces firmly, and kisses him, hard.

When he opens his eyes, they’re in a bedroom that Aziraphale recognises as Crowley’s— the elegant, expensive looking furniture and materials that wouldn’t be out of place in Buckingham palace. And the Crowley that lies beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly, flaming red hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, might not be out of place in a brothel.  
“You chose me,” he whispers at last, eyes hazy and blown up like a cat’s— which Aziraphale didn’t known could happen— and lips red and parted like that one sea that Moses got his hands on.

“Of course I chose you,” replies Aziraphale, taking in the sight of Crowley like he’s a sumptuous banquet straight from one of Ancient Rome’s palaces.  
“You’d die if I don’t choose you; who do you think I am?”  
Crowley swallows, and Aziraphale watches, entranced, as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

“Angel… I need…”  
“Oh, dear, oh of course,” Aziraphale’s hands go to his jacket, but Crowley grabs them before he can.  
“No… you— you don’t understand…” Crowley seems to struggle with himself. “I need you to… want this.”  
“Want it? Of course I want it! I’m not just going to let you die—!”  
“No!” Crowley’s hands grip the angel’s wrists tighter, knuckles going white. “I need you— need you to want— want me…”

And Aziraphale understands.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Oh.”

Crowley’s looking at him, him, the difference between life or death, with such earnest and desperation that Aziraphale thinks for a second that if Gabriel thinks heaven is a better reward than having Crowley— mind, body and soul— he is nothing but delusional; plain and simple.

“Yes, I want you,” murmurs Aziraphale, as genuine and sincere as he can make it. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in 6000 years.”

Crowley groans, tips his head back and lifts trembling hands to grab at the front of the angel’s shirt.  
“I tried,” he manages to say. “I tried to find someone like you— but— but—“ he gasps. “Porn, it’s, it’s a thing humans have— it’s—“ he squeezes his eyes shut. “They didn’t look like you,” pants Crowley, trembling from head to toe as he grasps Aziraphale’s lapels in both hands. “None of them— no one. Just you, only you look like you— I, fuck,”  
“Gracious,” murmurs Aziraphale as Crowley lets out another highly indecent sound and grinds himself on Aziraphale’s thigh. Then, he collects himself.

“As much as I could listen to your confessions about gratifying yourself to me,” he says quietly, “we really should be getting on. Fifty minutes.”  
After a short pause, Crowley nods. “...Yeah.”

He’s completely hard, now, the front of his trousers tented and moderately sticky. Aziraphale can’t help but feel himself blush just looking.  
“Human way?”  
“Human… human way.”

Aziraphale removes his jacket with fumbling fingers, before starting on the buttons as all Crowley can do is watch helplessly.  
“I— love you,” he whispers, and the angel lets out a little squeak and tries to undress himself as fast as he can. “I love— you, you and, and your stupid… your stupid fucking bowtie… and- and everything… just— just you, angel, I fucking love you.”  
“I love you too!” Aziraphale’s fully naked, now, and his hands go to Crowley’s shirt as though intending to take that off, too.

“Oh, don’t,” Crowley groans. “Too long. Not— not enough time…”

Aziraphale blushes, nods, and instead starts work on Crowley’s belt. Where cool fingers meet hot skin, Crowley gasps and writhes even worse and Aziraphale begins to feel his self-restraint melt away.  
“Are you ready?” He says when the trousers have been shucked down to Crowley’s knees (because good lord he’s not wearing anything underneath), and Crowley almost screams in frustration.  
“Angel!”  
“Alright, alright, sorry.”

When the first cool, lubricated finger finds Crowley’s entrance, he lets out a whole entire unabashed whimper that makes Aziraphale’s toes curl, and when it goes in up to the second knuckle Crowley sobs.  
“Um, if anything goes a bit far, ‘Adam’ is the safe word. I think that’d kill any sort of arou—“  
“You could not— possibly go— too fucking far—!” 

And that’s it; Aziraphale’s patience and restraint crumbles and he hooks the finger inside Crowley, making him cry out. The next finger causes the demon to grab a bedpost in each hand, knuckles going white, and when Aziraphale moves them just-so, he fully howls.

I haven’t given up heaven, Aziraphale thinks, the thought managing to make its way to the surface through the haze of arousal. This, right here, what I have underneath me, this is heaven in its purest and most raw form.

“Fuck, angel,” Crowley sobs. “I need— I need you. Inside me. Right… right now— fuck, please—!”

Entering Crowley is something comparable to walking through the golden gates for the first time. His long, skinny legs hook themselves around Aziraphale’s waist, and Crowley digs his heels in as the angel goes in all the way and if this is the sin Jesus died for then boy oh boy was it worth it.  
“Fuck me,” pants Crowley, “-hard.” He looks up at Aziraphale, tears trickling down his cheeks and nothing but pure and unadulterated adoration shining from his eyes. “As hard as you can.”

Aziraphale’s mouth goes down on Crowley’s with a hunger like that of a starving man as he thrusts into him, swallowing all the beautiful noises he makes and desperate for more.  
“You’re mine,” he mutters, hand moving round to cup the back of Crowley’s head as they break for breath. “Mine, all mine, do you understand?”

Crowley nods fervently, surging back up to kiss his angel again.  
“I’m yours, I— all yours, oh, oh fuck—!”  
Evidently, he’s hit the demon’s sweet spot as his eyes roll back and he gasps into Aziraphale’s mouth. “Angel, fuck, I— I think I’m going to-“  
“Do it,” says Aziraphale, feeling his own release building up like a roaring tidal wave against a dam. “Do it for me, Crowley, fuck…”

He winds his fingers into Crowley’s hair and pulls, and it’s the last thing that sends him over the edge with a groan and come spilling over them both. With a shout, Aziraphale feels himself shudder and then he’s coming, too, inside (oh goodness) inside Crowley.

“Hits differently,” whispers Crowley. “When you know you might die after.”  
“Somehow I don’t think you will,” Aziraphale says gently, eyes roving over the demon who finally seems to be settled. “How do you feel?”  
“Fucked to within an inch of my life,” announces Crowley happily, a grin spreading over his face. “I’d have gotten kidnapped and cursed a lot longer ago if I’d known the sex would be this good.” Then, a thought seems to pass through his mind. “Um. You don’t mind that you had to give up heaven? For this?”

“Heaven wasn’t half this good,” replies Aziraphale. He smiles. “Oh dear, Crowley, please don’t start crying again…”

***

“Well. That’s that,” mumbles Gabriel, looking more than a little green. God harrumphs.  
“Don’t tell me you didn’t expect it.”  
“Well, I didn’t know, did I? It was your idea.”

God leaves a contemptuous silence hanging in the air.  
“We’ll have to tell him he can come back at some point, you understand.”  
“Can we leave it a month or so? It really was upsetting me to watch them tap dance around the subject, and I feel Aziraphale should have a little period of time where he has to think about some things.”  
“I suppose so.”

There’s comfortable silence.

“God?”  
“Yes?”  
“He wasn’t really going to die, was he?”  
“...I’d have found a way to remedy it. Miracles do happen, after all.”  
Gabriel laughs, albeit a tad nervously.  
“Yes, they do.”

**Author's Note:**

> im not particularly good at this smut lark but if no one else was going to write it then I might as well
> 
> @/ollyoctopus on tumblr


End file.
